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“No, you left the fight and came straight here because you couldn’t get your dick sucked before, so you needed it done after.” His mouth pulled into a tight line. “Brenda was a bad choice there, my friend.”
A chill passed over me. There was no such thing as idle chatter with men such as these, and I instantly feared for the petite brunette woman’s safety. Had I put her into harm’s way?Fuck, fuck, fuck.“Why is that?”
“She belongs to Lorenzo. He was on his way up to meet you and met her on the stairs instead.” Slowly, Marco shook his head. “The little slut must’ve been had fifty guys inside her tonight with the amount of cash she had on her.”
It took everything I possessed not to shove this motherfucker aside and barrel through the club until I found Brenda and got her out of there. But then what? Was I supposed to try to save her like I hadn’t saved Emilia? I could hide her away in my studio apartment maybe, try to convince her this was no life for a young girl with such a bright future.
She’d had a bright future, until she met me.
“Where is Lorenzo now?” I asked slowly, clenching and unclenching my fists.
Usually, I was so careful with my tells, but I couldn’t hold back any more than I was at that moment. That Constantinova was still standing proved I had almost inhuman control, because I wanted him dead for even daring to utter the wordslut. If anyone was a whore here, it was them. They were the ones without morals or regard for anything but fucking money. The green was all they cared about.
“He’s indisposed.”
I stared to push past him, but Marco grabbed my arm. He stroked his jaw, eyeing me as dispassionately as the butcher examined a slab of meat. “You might want to steer clear of the main room of the club right now, friend.”
I’m not your friend. I nearly growled the words, but somehow I held back the bitterness that burned on my tongue. “Why is that?”
Deep down, I knew. Brenda wouldn’t get off with a warning. The group of men that I was trying to infiltrate viewed the girls as their property, and they wouldn’t see a sign of supposed disrespect as something to be taken lightly. Most of the ladies at the club moonlighted, and that was fine as long as they did it discreetly. But handfuls of money weren’t discreet.
And fuck, I should’ve known better than to send her off with a target on her chest. I hadn’t realized she was spoken for—and by Lorenzo, especially—and that too was on me. It was my job to know. I’d been slacking on recon lately, choosing to spend the bare minimum of time to achieve my aims.
And now yet another innocent girl would pay. Because of me.
“Sit. We will talk business until Lorenzo can join us.” Marco gestured to the couch where I’d been seated. “You won your fight tonight. Lo will be pleased.”
Ignoring him, I strode toward the door. I had no intention of sitting if I could help Brenda. Fuck my cover. Fuck everything.
The scream halted me in my tracks. For an instant, I was sure it was Carly. Thin, high-pitched. Why had I left her alone in a place like this? Vipers cloaked themselves in expensive threads, and she wouldn’t know which ones to avoid.
Once the ice clogging my lungs cleared, I rushed out of the room and along the wide hall, scarcely aware of how quiet it had gone downstairs. The voices had turned into a low hum, and no one was laughing anymore.
I chanced a glance over the railing and the sight at the bottom of the spiral staircase made my lungs seize once again. A shout lodged in my throat, coming out as a pained gasp.
It was too late.
The girl lay crumpled next to the last step, her long hair incapable of hiding the pool of dark fluid spreading across the black and white tiles. The red lights only made the scene more macabre. Her hair was dark, but for an instant it was reddish-gold, as bright as the setting sun.
Someone joined me at the rail, and without looking, I knew it was Marco. He placed a placating hand on my arm, patting it as if he felt genuine remorse. “Accidents can strike at any time.”
“That was no accident,” I spat, unwilling to bite my tongue.
Marco’s gaze hardened. “I don’t see anyone stepping forward to point a finger, do you?”
Of course no one was stepping forward. To do so would be to put your head on a platter for Lorenzo and his goons. No one had that kind of death wish.
Except me. I courted death daily. If I won my latest fight or I died, either way I’d be closer to my goal. One step closer to eviscerating Emilia’s murderer or to being with her again. Or if there was no afterlife, to finally feeling nothing. No remorse, no guilt, no grief. Just…nothing.
That was a kind of heaven I’d never get to experience while my heart still beat.
“It’s a hard thing,” Marco said, clearly reading my silence as capitulation.
That’s what he called the senseless loss of life? Worst of all, this fuck was a distant cousin of Emilia’s. He, of all people, should hate the suffering caused for such insignificant reasons.
But then Emilia loving me hadn’t been considered insignificant at all. Her feelings for me—and my reciprocation—had been seen as deliberate defiance. Generations of our relatives had reviled each other, and we had no right to buck the trend.
“She was barely twenty.” I gripped the rail to keep from bashing the bastard’s head in. I could kill him in a matter of minutes. The police were on their way no doubt, but he’d be dead before he even hit the floor.
